


Help Me Find You

by Boomjob



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, This thing is gonna have almost like, every ship or at least close to it, everyones a good singer dont fight me on this, karaoke bar au, rated teen for swearing but like really thats it, well like most canon ships cuz cant overlap on some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomjob/pseuds/Boomjob
Summary: The Raven's Roost Karaoke Bar was a second home for most of its patrons. When a normal Friday night brings in a stranger, the lives of our favorite seven are twisted together and reshaped into something new. Modern AU





	1. The Ravens Roosters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I've spent some time with this story stuck in my head for the better part of this last week. I've got lots of plans for (basically) each characters own path in here, so like... yeah. That's a thing that has taken up most (all) of my time. Hope you enjoy! Songs sung in this chapter are linked at the bottom.

The night is young. Friday nights never really age; the sun simply rises before anyone considered its passing.

City lights twinkled. Dingy sodium orange clashed with fluorescence in a high-class separation, tiers of buildings ascending to poke at the dark clouds of the sky, as the sounds of life overwhelmed the psyche. Power lines criss-cross over dark brown alleys. Safety is questioned, depending on an individual’s confidence and physical prowess. Sweat lingered with yesterday's rainfall. In contrast, high in the air, in penthouses and planes, champagne is drunk in large quantities by those in sequined dresses and imported fabrics. Their smooth skin reflected against chandeliers, beauty measured by the price tag of the outfit. Glasses clink and everyone is bored to tears. Friday nights never aged, only the living did.

Between the blurred lines of city colors are ground-level businesses, packed sometimes between food shops and mob fronts, between apartment buildings and various competition. Bars are a favorite among the Friday night crawlers. The level of comfort varies between each. Some are good for single drinkers, others need packs to survive. Small dives and clubs, with arrays of sports memorabilia or classic band tour posters, some with flashing lights and floor pumping music, others low-lit and comfortable with letting a jukebox determine the ambiance. One bar was a secret hidden gem, a place to simply enjoy the company of others and their occasional singing. A flat, streetside watering hole with blue and gold neon lights wrapped around its frame, lighting up the watchful sidewalk with the name _The_ _Raven’s_ _Roost Karaoke Bar_. Of course, here, the night was young as well.

Hushed whispers between two identical twins at a fourtop by the stage are drowned out by drums chasing guitar solos from the tall, scruffy DJ playing Boston off to the side. A dark-skinned waitress carried glasses back to the bar, where a bartender with dreads and another with thick-rimmed glasses serve other patrons. This included, but was not limited to, a short, grey-bearded man at the bartop, and a small, well-dressed scotch drinker next to him.

The energy flowed between each, mixing together in a comfortable rhythm in tune with the music and lowlights. The room was packed, a sea of heads sharing tables and booths, laughing above the hammering beat. Maroon walls were covered in framed newspaper clippings of the bar’s opening, the occasional soccer jersey, and pictures of celebrities with the scruffy DJ. Everyone feels like family, friends are treated with hospitality and strangers are welcomed to the stage.

“Tonight's the night I sing! I’m really gonna do it!”

“Merle, if you get up on my stage and sing country, I’ll get Kenny Chesney himself to dance on your grave!” the DJ boomed from the front, one headphone lazily slipping from his ear as he bobs up and down to the tempo.

“Alright, alright, I’m sitting back down!” The room lit up with laughter from all corners as regulars share in the inside joke, and newcomers are introduced to the local barfly and virtual mascot.

“Don’t worry, short stack, we got this next one,” one of the twins up front called out, signaling a few cheers from the crowd. She took a long swig of her hard cider, smearing red lip gloss on the rim. Next to her, another person sharing the same face pulled his hair up into a ponytail and off his shoulders, exposing all the shirt’s revealing cutouts and ruffles. Adjusting his hair clips with one hand accordingly, he swallowed back the rest of his appletini and smirked at his clone.

“Magnus, honey,” he called to the DJ, “let’s get the energy up.”

“ _Evacuate the Dancefloor_ by Cascada,” she finished for him, as they stood with arms locked by their table. Magnus nodded as the large print _Evacuate the Dancefloor_ lit up on the outfacing screens. Cheers from the bar are loud as the crowd approved. She turned back to the other two at their table. “Greg, could you possibly take pics?”

“Yeah, same here for ya boy, Sazed, if you could grab a video of us, that would be prime.”

The two agreed as they both found their respective cell phones, poised to capture the proceeding moments. To their left, the waitress refreshed their drinks. Taking the empty bottle and martini glass and striding back to the bar, her non-slip restaurant shoes blended with the dark carpet, and white hair matched her high collar button-up shirt with a black bowtie. Dropping her tray onto the bartop, she quickly took out her notepad from her smock to jot down the orders of table 56 and 32 where they asked for refills.

“Have they sung Cascada before?”

“They sang Kesha before, that’s pretty close, right?”

“How fucking dare you, Barry.”

“Kravitz, give him a break,” the waitress piped up, smirking at the bickering bartenders. “He hadn’t listened to anything besides Rick Astley before he worked here.” She’s reminded of how glad she is to be out _here_ and not _in there._

These two couldn’t be more different. Tall, dark and handsome versus short, pale, and soft, though admittedly handsome as well. Both had their charms and raked in about the same tips. Kravitz, the former, took the note and starts working on the drinks, gathering glasses in his hands in groups of three and refreshing the ice supply.

Barry, the ladder, sputtered, and managed to counter before Kravitz, the other bartender, could reply. “Hey, at least I don’t listen to My Chemical Romance on repeat on my car rides home.”

Kravitz looked up from the milkcrate storage cube on the floor. “That CD was a gift and you know it, Barold,” he shot back at the barman playfully.

“Boys, please,” the well-dressed patron said. ”You both have terrible music taste. We all know this. Plus, Barry…” He lazily slouched closer onto the bar, saying, “Weren’t you the one with a Black Veil Brides tattoo?”

The other two gasped, Kravitz going so far as to raise a well-manicured hand to his chest while kneeling on the floor. Barry’s eyes darkened. “Davenport, I don’t know where you get your dirt, but if you ever need your informant assassinated, I will _gladly_ volunteer to take them out.” They all shared a laugh at his expense, but knew when a joke was tapped for all it’s worth.

“Here, Lucretia, for those table refills.” Kravitz handed four drinks to the waiting bartop, where Lucretia's skillful hands balanced the four onto her tray. She left as the performing twins mounted the stage, mumbling last preparations to the DJ as the previous song faded. The room pulses a new pink light, the glasses hanging from above the bar catching it and each mirror intensifying it. They swirled on the low ceiling, mingling with the scent of alcohol and fun. The sounds of clicking heels on the small illuminated stage fought for dominance against the increasingly excited crowd.

They were dressed to the nines in their own sense of definition. One wore a backwards baseball cap with beachy wave hair spilling out one side, with unbuckled overalls and a halter top. The other, now with a high ponytail, in a choppy side-shoulder crop top and a high waisted, velvet skirt. The room was infatuated with both of them, and nobody questioned it. But it’s only when they’re handed mics did everyone fall in _love_ with the dynamic duo.

“Esteemed patrons of The Raven’s Roost Karaoke Bar, give a warm welcome to Lup and Taako, singing ‘Evacuate the Dancefloor!’ ” Magnus readjusted his headphones over his slouchy beanie, round reading glasses perched lightly on his nose to help see the various bright laptop screens and mixing boards. His olive green v-necked t-shirt hung loosely from his frame, despite potentially being a triple X. He looked like he was built to man the doorway and turn minors away, not disk jockey. He finished setting up the song and gave Lup a glance, signaling a countdown from _three_ with his fingers, _two_ before starting the song, _one_ , and the beat surged.

Building synth music started as pink flashed in time. Whooping erupted from the bar as both twins put on a small show before the song even starts. Silhouetted by lights and draped in the neon glow, their singing was upbeat and infectious, like the best and worst virus ripping through the immune system of the night. Inescapable and resplendent.

They switched parts occasionally, one after the other, stringing individual lines together and harmonizing others. The chorus bumped as they squeezed their eyes shut and wrapped around each other while dancing, like one in the same, dancing and singing while onlookers struggled to decide which was yin and which was yang. The bar sangs along with them as the screen projected the lyrics to watchers.

“See, he took the high note there.”

“Why’s that matter?”

“Last week he took the lower part.”

“Again, I don’t see where you’re going.”

“He’s got the better range. Singing notes that far apart on the spectrum is, like, crazy hard.”

“Last week they sang a Christmas song just because someone said they wouldn’t, Krav.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Kravitz concluded, dragging a towel along the outside of a beer glass. “Besides, Mariah Carey is hard to sing no matter what, so it still counts as a feat of extreme talent.”

“I’m not saying it doesn’t, but you forget that Lup was the one that hit all the ladders of the song.” Barry stood side-by-side with him, washing the glasses and not facing his taller coworker. They speak in a deadpan tone that anyone watching from the outside would say felt cold, but among the Raven’s Roost family is known to be their signature way of communicating. He hands the glass to Kravitz to dry. It’s how they remained ‘professional.'

With their expressions unchanging, they both hid their own secrets of preferring one twin over the other in a romantic sense. Not many could see it behind the wall of a fuzzy conscience swayed by liquor, except for the ginger-haired man at the bar watching their exchange.

He sipped lightly, comfortably buzzed without lolling his head to the side like the friend next to him. Davenport kept and held lots of secrets; some he’s willing to share, and others he would rather not. By his side, Merle watched the performance, foot tapping to the beat and clapping with the rambunctious crowd. Davenport smiled.

“Uh, Dav? Hey, I thought I should warn you…” A soft voice by his ear said, “Carey just told me there were a few cameras outside after some B-list celebrity walked by. Not sure if you wanted to dodge just in case... I can watch the door.” Under the pink lights he could barely make out Lucretia, one of the sole holders in this bar of one said secret he’d rather not share.

“Thanks, Luce, I owe you,” he whispers back. More often than not they were false alarms, but he isn’t willing to take risks with paparazzi. This bar was the only place he could call a quiet sanctuary, despite the floor-thumping tunes of the late 2000’s. He hopped down from his high wooden bar stool.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Davenport turned to see Merle, nursing a Bud Light. “You’re gonna miss their finale.”

“Just the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” He fled before he could get any signals from Lucretia, not wanting to risk any time in the open. The pain of having a reputation, it seemed.

Lucretia made her way around the room, checking on people to refresh glasses, check service, and serve appetizers. A quick side-eye told her that Davenport had taken her advice and made it to the bathroom. Not a second too late, either. Three reporters off the job walked in, with Carey the bouncer quietly behind them. She squinted, searching around for the waitress before locking eyes with her and giving a quick nod to the three walking in, motioning to their camera bags.

Nodding back, Lucretia swiftly walked over to the mens bathroom door, and tapped out a quick and specifically planned out knock against the door.

“... - .- -.--”

Waiting for a response from the single-stalled room, she finally heard her cue from the other side.

“--- -.-”

Sighing, she taped the on-hand “Out of Order” sign to the door as an extra precaution. Making her way back out to the floor, the song was wrapping up as the crowd roared.

“ _Evacuate the dancefloor! I'm infected by the sound!_ ”

Taako swished his hair to the side and lifted his arm in time as he sang.

“ _St_ _op, this beat is killing me! Hey, little DJ, come burn this place right down, underground!_ ”

Lup finished the song with a flourish, panting as her combat boots gave a final stomp and she holds her hat in place. The pink lights dimmed and the crowd went wild. The twins gave each other a clap on the back and held themselves up together, handing the microphones back and jumping down from stage.

“Guys, I don’t know how you don’t try to make it big.”

“Sazed, you’re a broken record. There ain’t a chance, my guy.” Taako took a dainty sip of his sister’s water bottle.

“It would work, people get picked up off YouTube all the time. Look, you’d just have to post it—”

“Sazed. It’s just not gonna happen.” The truth is, nobody in that bar knew what Taako did outside of these walls, because it wasn't anyone’s fucking business, in his opinion. But videos were always fun to show among friends, and a singer always needed materials to improve from.

Sazed visibly deflated, his face contorting into a sour expression under the dim lights as time passed.

“Pictures are great, though! Good scrapbook material,” Lup said. “Grimaldis, you catch anything good there?”

“Few good ones. I’ll send them later when we have a better signal,” Greg replied, as the music picked back up.

“Fuckin’ sweet.” Lup took the time to steal her water back from Taako as he fixed his mascara in his mirror phone case.

A few feet away, the three reporters off the clock were busy getting drunk on the only cheap beer their weak pay could afford. Paparazzi in this town was a good profession, as the city held lots of folks worthy of a good picture. But a photographer would have to disregard most morals in secretly sniping an unwilling celebrity. Kravitz and Barry knew exactly how to get them out as quick as possible, while still remaining professional.

Barry slyly took off his glasses and aimed them at the front of the room. The bright lights caught the glass and reflected towards Magnus, signaling him to, as they say, _bring the room down a bit_. Magnus nodded in recognition, sets the backup playlist to the speakers, and stepped down from the side stage. Barry turned back to the patrons.

Kravitz took his time pouring out each draft, one after the other. They weren’t horrible people—far from it. That didn’t stop them from being a danger to their hole-in-the-wall establishment. Popularity never faired well with small bars. They weren’t a club. Kravitz side-eyes Merle, who, despite the amount of alcohol in his system, read loud and clear. It was a well-practiced chain of events that happened often enough, but the real show had yet to begin.

“So, boys! Catch anyone tonight? Fridays are always wild for pics, amirite?” Merle slurred while at the corner of the bar. The three buzzed reporters looked him over. He had a button-up bowling shirt on with a band t-shirt hidden underneath, cargo shorts, and flip flops. Added together with his long beard, eye patch, and prosthetic arm, he sure was a character worth the time to talk to.

“Nah, she spotted us before we could ask any questions or even snap a photo. Quick, pretty thing, wasn’t she?” He turned for approval at the other two, who in turn laughed and took a swig.

“ _Oh_ , of people? You take pictures of people?” Merle said while leaning against the bar. Barry gave a quick ‘snrk’ and turned before laughing, with Kravitz pounding his back to hide the laughter that bubbled into a cough. Confused, the reporters turned back to Merle.

The second one spoke this time. “Uh, yes? Of course it’s for pictures of people. What were you, um, thinking we were doing instead?”

Merle smiled. “Oh, well, I take pictures myself!” He changed the topic to keep them on their toes. Classic.

The third reporter chimed in. “Oh, that’s lovely! What magazine do you work for?”

“ _Botany Weekly_ ,” Merle answered. “Sometimes you can catch just… the sexiest picture of the right plant in bloom.”

The three held back their confused looks poorly, but shared a glance of understanding that _no, yeah, that’s definitely a weird thing to say, right?_

But Merle continued. “There’s this one fern, that when you touch it _just_ right—” Merle took one finger and slowly stroked it against the wooden bartop, with the other holding his head up—“it’ll fan out for you, open and inviting.” Merle made direct eye contact with all three in a row, keeping his finger on the bar and smirking with half-lidded eyes.

The three sat still and pale as sheets. They stayed there for a long five seconds before the middle one, likely the leader, rummaged in his pockets. The other two watch as he picked out a twenty and slapped it on the bar. As he got up, he said, “Lovely bar, keep the change.” Then, looking at Merle, said, “We really oughta be leavin’. Have a, uh, night.” And all three shuffled out quickly, forgetting everything except their belongings.

Kravitz watched from his vantage point in the bar as they snaked between tables and finally around the corner. Carey came back, made eye contact with both Kravitz and Lucretia, and gave a thumbs-up.

Kravitz was the first to laugh, signaling Barry to lean against the other barman in a fit of wheezing, one arm draped over the taller man. Kravitz hugged back, gripping the bar in a desperate fit to stay standing as Barry practically fell against him in whooping laughter. Merle merely chuckled as he chugged the rest of his drink.

“M… Merle, holy shit!” Barry gasped through laughter. “ _Botany Weekly_?”

“Yeah, yeah, I figured it would send ’em running. Guess I was right!”

“You certainly were! They left enough tips and everything.” Kravitz slightly stumbled to catch Barry again, still rolling on his shoulder in hiccups of laughter, mumbling something about the reporters’ faces.

Lucretia strolled over from her spot out on the floor, having too received Carey’s signal. “Drat, did I miss one of Merle’s legendary fake scare stories again?”

Barry pealed into renewed laughter, surprising Kravitz and sending them both tumbling to the floor under Barry’s weight.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Lucretia took this time to knock on Davenport’s bathroom door, and he came back out with a thank-you for the waitress.

As she came back, Magnus was resting an elbow against the bar, round glasses from earlier hanging from his shirt lazily. Barry was recounting Merle’s story as Kravitz washed the reporters’ draft glasses. Davenport took his seat by Merle to catch the tail end of the story. Lucretia caught sight of two people also walking towards the bar, weaving through throngs of people and catching compliments all the way.

“What did our local bar favorite do this time?” Lup asked, ruffling the older man's hair as her twin filed in behind her on his other side. “We saw those guys running and heard laughter.”

Barry secretly blushed at this.

“Yeah, was it anything like last time, or did you not have to spill a shot on someone’s camera?” Taako smirked, his goofy grin and buckteeth juxtaposed against his killer outfit. Kravitz, thinking this, secretly blushed, too.

The seven of them stood together amiably, laughing with Merle and recounting stories of the past. They stood together in a small time of shared happiness as staples of the bar, and good friends.

It isn’t until Killian rushed over, with a girl hidden under her arms, that they stopped laughing. “She was outside. We need to help her.”

The woman peeked from under Killian’s bouncer jacket. Her hair was wild and dark, hiding her face as she slouched down in the dark. As she stood, her tan skin reflected the dance lights and made them softer, inhaling the energy and breathing in the atmosphere. Magnus unabashedly stared at her in the semi-darkness. Her expensive shirt was in tatters and she had a nasty cut across her cheek, and her eyes held a fear that Magnus wanted to strangle on the spot, and fight out of this girl with every drop of strength he had.

He rushed towards them. As she looked up, she grabs his wrist and croaked out—

“Please, I need you to hide me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Tess for beta reading this! You can find her here at https://gayipre.tumblr.com/ or her ao3, http://archiveofourown.org/users/stargirls/pseuds/stargirls 
> 
> The morse code between Lucretia and Davenport translate to "stay" and "ok," respectively.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to post the song link! The song in this fic was "Evacuate the Dance floor" by Cascada. Usually I'll link the actual song and add my hc for how it was sung, but in this case there wasn't a "perfect" cover I could find.  
> Cascada version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vdh_ID_HhM


	2. Secrets and Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang helps mystery girl hide in the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be putting the links to the songs I write about in the notes at the end! If you don't recognize a song, pop the link in search and listen along while reading!

Her grip was strong as steel, and her gaze even stronger. Magnus looked at her hand at his wrist. The skin of her palms were soft, without calluses despite the strength her fingers wielded. His gaze trailed up her strong arms, past her broad shoulders, to her... beautiful face. Magnus, after looking deeply, pieced together that no, this woman wasn’t scared. Her eyes shone with instinct, and the recognition that flight was the right course of action.

The group stood at the bar together in stunned silence while the rest of the room moved without hitch. The beat still jumped, time still ticked, and as they looked on in realization of this, they moved to action.

Killian wrapped the woman back up in her jacket. Kravitz began moving crates out of the way to make a spot under the bar, while Lucretia kept notes on her small pad of the time, date of incident, and any details of the woman’s injuries. Lup and Taako moved chairs out of the way to make a path for Magnus to usher her around the bar counter and away from view. Davenport turned any curious looks away, and Merle grabed the First Aid kit the bar kept. As she ducked under the marble and sits hunched next to the piping, Barry handed her a glass of water and a cushion from one of the stools to sit on. They moved all at once with trained precision, a calculated whirlwind on a schedule.

Magnus knew how bad it wass to have to sit on the floor after asking for help, but this wasn’t the first time someone rough-looking had come asking for it. The world was a scary place. Domestic violence, gang problems, assault and other various crimes were heard by The Raven’s Roost, all with a helping hand extended. Whether she knew it or not, Magnus thought, she came to the right place.

Everyone held their breath and looked casual, save for Magnus standing like a guard dog in front of her. The music still played, some still danced, completely unaware of what was unfolding. Daring anyone to barge in and ask for her, he kept his eyes trained on the door. They all jumped when Carey instead came in, calling that the coast was clear.

A sigh spread through them, with Merle ordering a round for the lot. It wasn’t really a cause for celebration, but it was as good as any for people standing in a place that served booze.

Magnus crouched down, relaxed by the danger passing. “Hey, are you alright?” Her jaw was tight, eyes still wide. After a few moments, she chewed her lip and nodded, breaking to take a sip of water. “Alright, well, I’ll get Merle to take a look at that cut, cool?”

She nodded again, sliding her knees down into a cross. Good, she was comfortable.

The others drifted from the scene after they politely checked on the girl and offered their assistance, leaving her to get some breathing room. The booze coaxed them away from her, each looking to resume their night.

The medical kit hit the floor with a _klunk,_ as Merle sat down with his prosthetic arm propping him up. He busied himself with the box before introducing himself, speaking as soft as someone on the floor of a loud bar could muster. Magnus backed away a bit as Killian came close and hunched over the bar. “She came running towards us with that wild look most of them have. Y’know, the ‘Please God, someone with basic human decency, help me?’ ”

“Yep,” Magnus agreed. “Which way did she come from?”

“Best guess? West road, though there’s a lot of alleyways she could have branched from.”

“Did she say who was chasing her?”

“Not specifically, no, all we got was that it wasn’t from the cops, and from someone that could hurt her.”

Magnus took a look at the girl again. Her arms were thick as tree trunks. He doesn’t doubt she could probably have even beatten Killian in an arm wrestle. Anyone that could even touch this girl was probably bad news. “Alright, sounds good. Thanks, Kills.” Killian nodded and headed back outside, but not before Kravitz tossed her a water bottle for the road. The door closed with a soft _thud,_ and she was out.

Magnus joined Merle on the floor, feeling it vibrate with the bass as he brushed away dust bunnies. Sitting cross-legged, he leaned his arm against the mini-fridge to make room for Merle unwrapping bandages at his right. He slowly unwounds a patch, letting Magnus do the cutting.

Merle finally spoke. “Well, I looked her over. She didn’t break anything, so that’s good. Lucky her, ’cuz we ran out of splint stuff last week. Maybe a twisted wrist but that’s about it. That, and the nasty gash she won’t tell me about.” He pauses to jokingly squint/glare at her. To Magnus’s surprise, she cracked a smile with the medic. Apparently they’d gotten along just fine in his absence. “Here, let me introduce you to our esteemed DJ and bar owner.

Magnus thought it best to jump in. “Magnus Burnsides, but just Magnus is fine.” He stretched his arm out over Merle in an awkward pull. She took it with that same strong grip as before, but this time warmer, more collected. “And your name…?”

Her voice was like honey. “I’m afraid I can’t say, but don’t take that as an offense.” Magnus must look confused, as she continued. “I don’t know how much you heard, but I’m hiding from… someone, currently.” He’d be lying if he said he didn't see a flicker of anger in her eyes, smothered in seconds by a mask of emotions. There was more to her story for sure.

Magnus paused. “May I ask who you were running from?”

She tilted her head, looking for an answer, eyes searching the ceiling. Merle cleaned the wound on her cheek quietly. “Nothing illegal, I promise. No gangs, no police chase down the highway, no dogs after me.” She smiled and continued. “Not this time… but I’ve had a bit of crazy fun. Everyone’s young once.” She laughed at her own joke.

Oh, she’s fun. More importantly, finally comfortable with her situation. After the danger cleared and the storm passed, her smile flashed like his strobe lights, strong and bright. Magnus slowly gave his own smile in finding this new friend. He can play, too. “Oh, yeah?” He giggled at his own premeditated question. “How, uh… how crazy are we talkin’?” It’s good to see her relaxed, but even better to relax himself.

Oh, _he’s_ fun, she realized. She leaned in and answered, “I started a flash mob water balloon fight in town square.” She smirked, proud of her answer.

Magnus tauntingly threw his eyebrows up, laughing. Admittedly, he was surprised. But not to be bested, he rebutted, “I thought you were gonna hit me with something _cool._ I released an entire kennel into the park for like, an hour, just so I could throw a bunch of tennis balls to the dogs.” He leans back in. “And a bunch of my friends made the rope swing for the city pond in said park.”

She looked surprised. “I have indulged in the use of said swing.” Her dignified tone comically hid her astonishment. “You made that?”

“I did. I had extra rope and wood from my Eagle Scout project years ago, of course it went to the sturdiest pond tree.”

“Well, in terms of extremes, can I tell you a secret?” She leaned in impossibly close. Magnus felt the warmth of her breath on his face, like smoke pooling from her mouth fueled by the fire in her eyes. “I spray-painted a dick on Kalen’s front door.”

“That was _you?”_ Magnus sat tall in awe, careful not to snap his head too high and hit it on the counter above. “Like, _the_ asshole Kalen? Son-of-the-governor and all around asshole Kalen?”

She leaned back against the bar wall, hair flowing out in all directions. “Yeah, it was a gift to him. Not many people get a portrait of their personality done on their entry door.”

Magnus stopped to consider the comment before it clicked. Laughter rolled from his chest as he thew his head up. His large hand came up to cover his mouth when Kravitz gave him a concerned look, muffling the outburst. The girl swelled with a sudden pride. She’d never told anyone she’d done that herself, and the media never found out who the culprit was. Under that dingy bar, she felt satisfaction in the form of this large man and his shared sense of humor.

“Y’all done bragging yet, or can I put this bandage on?” Both their heads snapped to the side, remembering Merle in the corner, waiting patiently while playing with the adhesive side of a Band-Aid. “Been down here so long I bet Barry cleared my drink.” They both shared a glance before snickering. She bent forward to let Merle patch her up. The medic slaps the gauze on her face and gave her a thumbs-up, an ice pack for her wrist, and a lollipop. With a salute to Magnus, he hauled himself up and inched past the bartenders.

Magnus watched him go before feeling a hand on his thigh. He turned to see her, shaded by the counter and sitting in dust, with her eyes suddenly looking sad. “Hey, I really do want to thank you for all this. If there’s any way to repay you, please tell me.”

For the millionth time that night, he was surprised. Her rapid change of emotion into sudden genuine sincerity, the realization that he cornered her into a gross floor spot, and the remembrance of how she got here all swirl together like a gross drink. Oh god, she was so nice and he stuck her under his bar. He had to make it up to her.

“How about a drink? On the house. You’re of age, right?” And again that night, he was gifted the sight of her smile.

~~~~

“What do you think they’re even talking about?”

“Magnus? With a pretty girl? That just waltzed into his bar full of alcohol and sexual promise?” Taako looked at Lup knowingly and paused, drumming his fingers on the table. “Probably dogs.”

Lup cackled at the thought, remembering the dog park story. Wiping tears from her heavily lined eyes, she straind her ears to listen in, pry into this conversation with what could very well be a potential enemy.

“You’re skeptical, I can see it.”

“What?”

“Maggie is sittin’ over there with this tattered slice of runway model that looks like she could bench press Carey. Bench press both of us at the same time even after we’ve drunk our weight in alcohol, and we don’t know what she can do with those guns.”

“Taako, this is one of the most prominent secret LGBT-plus bars in the city. I get Mags takes in everyone that needs help but sometimes they don’t take _us_ in. Remember the Green Day guy a few months back?”

“Ugh, don’t fuckin’ remind me. Asshole sullied 'Basket Case' with his homophobia, which is a _damn_ shame—”

“Exactly, so you can’t blame my healthy level of caution—”

“By being judgemental of our guest?”

“By _being…_ nervous.”

Taako didn’t see nerves in Lup. When Lup is nervous, her eyes blow wide with her eyebrows hardened in what looks like the weakest resting bitch face a lion could muster. But Lup isn’t a girl you want backed into a corner by any means. She wasn’t nervous, not right now. She was… on guard. Normal protocol in Taako’s opinion. He was too, of course.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, she seems like a nice girl. She’s laughing, look.”

“Magnus could make a horse’s ass laugh.”

“Are you trying out the role of comedy twin right now? How does it feel?” Lup gaves a light shove and a small ‘shut the fuck up,’ but Taako continued. “An ass laugh just sounds like a fart, sis. Back it up and try again.” He tilted his martini glass to her. “Go.”

Lup laughed at his antics but played along. “Magnus could make, um…” She searched the room for an answer. “Magnus could even make Kravitz laugh.”

“Booo, Kravitz is really nice! He makes good drinks.” Taako side-eyed the bartender across the room, busy expertly slicing oranges for garnish with a beautifully serious face. Damn, he was good with his hands. Taako crunched on a piece of ice from his water glass to cool down. “Speaking of, someone needs a refill. Sazed, honey?”

Sazed snapped his head up quickly from his phone and buried it into his pocket, eyes wide with shock. “Y-Yeah? What?”

“Could you be a peach and refill this fountain of youth?” He plucked the apple slice garnish from the side of his raised glass and bit a dainty chunk from it slowly, dangling the rest from between his teeth and tongue, winking. Sazed swallowed heavily, much to Taako’s delight.

“Hey, Greg, same for me?” Lup spun her empty bottle as she spoke, leaning back in her chair. No amount of theatrics could fake the look she could shoot into a hopeless romantic, as her perfected gaze spiked through suitors’ rational thought faster than steel piercing paper.

“Um, yeah, sure.” He packed his phone away and both boys headed for the bar. The twins watched them drift between tables, scoot past others, moving… going… leaving… and the Taaco's hunched down together at the table, faces dipping together away from the men across the room now.

“Taako, rip the Band-Aid, c’mon, this is pathetic.”

“But he’s a nice guy! He always offers to buy me things, take me places—”

“And push you into what you’re not looking for—”

“Everyone’s end goal when they date is commitment—!”

“With people they like! Taako, just because he can use a skillet and doesn’t think sequins are tacky doesn’t make you soulbound!”

“Keep your voice down, I didn’t want the other bars to hear about my interpersonal problems!” he shout-whisperd back. “We’re not even really together, remember? And what’s your excuse? You _hate_ Greg!”

“Greg’s on his way out the door and you know it.”

“For four weeks you’ve fed me that line knowing that at the end of the spoon was a heaping dollop of bullshit. His ass is flatter than a runway and his voice is grating. Find someone else before he cuffs you into vanilla sex and pity for life!”

“I know, I know! I just have to get there… I’ll get there.” They both relaxed a bit after their respective outbursts, slouching on the table. The bar a million miles away, Greg and Sazed stayed on their phones, just two guys in a bar. Lup and Taako recognized the almost stale taste in their mouths that came with the sight of them, and let their eyes drift to the barmen instead.

“Damn,” Lup said in a dreamlike trance, light dancing in her hair. “We’re really bad at this.”

“... Yeah, we are.”

~~~~

“It’s called ‘Coral Support.’ ”

“It’s very nice, good choice with the shirt and hair color.”

“What about yours?”

“I can’t remember the name of it, but I use gold to bring out my gold highlighter on my cheeks.” She brought her hand to her face, comparing the shimmering gold nails to her makeup. The bar crowd had thinned with time, but the usuals were all still around. The pre-set colorful lights cast blue over the patrons, turning the dark woods darker and the ceiling into the sea. A low thrum of bass crawled up stool legs, where the two of them sat together at the middle of the bar.

Davenport and Merle had cleared to a table when they decided to split a plate of nachos, leaving only temporary visitors to intrude in their conversation. Them, and of course the bartenders, respectfully keeping their distance from a private conversation. They’d spent a good hour together shooting the shit, joking about their favorite movies, laughing at political injustices.

“Shouldn’t you be like, on stage or something? You’re the DJ, right?” Magnus glanced up from his light beer. “ _And_ drinking on the job? What kind of establishment do you run, here?” she teased, running a hand through her hair. She sipped away at her third generously donated rum and coke while chatting with Magnus.

“One, I have a playlist on right now. Two, if anyone wants to sing, they know to just come get me. Three, who the hell is gonna fire me from my own bar?”

She continued to press him. “And what kind of karaoke bar doesn’t have those little side rooms for people to get drunk and sing privately? What _is_ this little oasis you’ve created?”

“To be quite honest? It morphed into a place where people just, wanted to sing? I had the tech for karaoke, and I was already the DJ technically, but mostly just the guy in the backroom. Pulling the strings, hiring people, signing checks. Gets boring after awhile.”

“No doubt. Feels good to escape, right?” She laughed casually, but Magnus flicked a curious look at her, and she must have seen it. “You know, from the mundane.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got me there.” He had to admit, she was interesting.

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, both just enjoying each other’s company for a moment. The songs were a bit calmer for this late, too, just light rock, no bass-thumping, heart-pumping songs. Good wind-down music for close to closing time. Magnus tapped his foot on his stool to the classic Dave Matthews Band song on, before hearing humming to his left. He looked to see her, eyes closed, humming to the tune. It’s only until the chorus hit that she sings low, not gravelly but certainly clean. The light guitar and snare perfectly complimented her.

 

“ _Oh, and you come crash…”_ Her voice perfectly rasped at the right line.

 _“… Into me, baby…”_ She held the note just long enough.

 _“And I come into you.”_ She was _beautiful._

 

He was astonished. Her voice was angelic. He… he couldn’t even picture a cooler person to meet on this night. Giving vigilante political messages, water balloon fights, music choices… who the _fuck_ would try to hurt her?

As the song wound down, she laughed, resuming her own silence. He couldn’t take it—he needed more from her. More _of_ her. Magnus dramatically turned his swivel stool to her, his back to the stage, and declared, “Well, I think it’s time you pay up.” His grin was cheesy, and his eyes crackled with wit.

She was playfully skeptic, but trusted his idea would be fun. “Mr. DJ, I thought you said it was on the house?”

“Oh, it was,” he said, dialing up the theatrics. “It was ‘on the house.’ The good visitors of this bar indirectly paid for your drink through my own pocket as the owner, so, you can pay one of two different methods in return.” Magnus could barely contain his own bubbling laughter as he spoke. “One, you can tell me your name, mystery patron.” She rolled her eyes. “Or, you could pay back these patrons and sing.”

That knocked her off guard. Then again, she was sitting in a karaoke bar after an hour of talking to this sweet guy at what had now been one a.m. She weighed her options, but there wasn’t really a contest. She knew each had benefits over the other, but one was her stage fright over the safety of her identity. “Alright, I’ll take up your offer.”

“Your name?”

“No, your stage. I’ll sing!” He couldn't help the wonderful smile that spread across his face, chased by a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Well, if you insist!” He stood, over half a dozen close friends side-eyeing him, and bowed slightly with a hand extended. “Right this way, Beyoncé.”

“Is that what you’ve pegged me for? Don’t get me wrong, that’s the best compliment I could ask for, but is that your final answer for your song guess?” She snickerd as she slipped down on her own from the stool, playfully shoving Magnus and his knightly hand but standing close. “Should I be disappointed?”

He paused, losing his train of thought. “Wait, yeah, what are you even going to sing?”

She smiled confidently, tugging at his short sleeve to draw his ear, and cupped her hand to whisper her choice. Magnus pulled away, surprised. “You have all that in you?” She only nodded. He smiles, ready for some fun.

~~~~

Magnus double-checked the volume controls and disks, speakers, and lights before turning on his microphone. He faded the last playlist song and dimmed the house lights until all that's left is a sole spotlight on the stage and himself. The room quieted. He took a deep breath, enough for his deep announcer voice, and flashed on blue lights.

“How are we doin’ tonight, folks?” The crowd gaves a hearty response. Not many people sing this late at night, but that didn’t stop the fun. He continued, “We’ve got something special tonight! A first-timer, a patron not from around here, wild in spirit and has…” He glanced at the girl waiting at the bottom of the stage for her entrance. She was lit by shadowed blue light through the stage fixtures, fiddling with the microphone. She noticed his look, and gave a cocky grin and thumbs-up combo. “… A powerhouse voice to fuel it.” She took the stage. Bathed in light, her tattered clothes no longer seemed sad, but strong against adversity.

He leaned away from the podium and whispered, “Wait, I can’t just call you _mystery patron_ , give me something!”

“Call me ‘Tongs,’ it’s a nickname.”

He liked that. “Introducing Tongs, singing Aerosmith’s _Dream On_!”

~~~~

“Damn, is she really going to sing that…?”

“I don’t know, give her a chance, Krav. She might do it.”

“Barry, you know that song?”

“Lucretia, you’re so much better than this.”

~~~~

“No fucking way.”

“There’s no chance—”

“The high note? Way too hard for this late at night—”

“Maybe not for you, ’Ko, step up your game.”

“Oh, you settin’ up the next battle night already? I’ll call the morgue for when I sweep your ass off that stage—”

“Shut up, she’s gonna start soon, stupid!”

~~~~

“What a good song. I saw them in concert way back when.”

“Oh, which tour?”

“I really have no idea, I just know they were incredible. Hey, you want more nachos? I’ll refill.”

“Thanks, but maybe after the performance, Merle. I’m kind of curious about this.”

~~~~

“You ready?”

She took a deep breathe. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The screens flashed  _Dream On_ , with the crowd cheering in response. Not everyone attempts such a hard song on their first night, much less nail it. Magnus wanted to make it good. He knew she could sing; she had that part covered. It was up to him to make it a good _show_.

She started, only occasionally glancing at the lyrics for reassurance. Low and slow, her voice was a current sweeping through the bar, the wind from her lungs warming the crowd. Magnus kept a steady blue spotlight, only raising some red as she thumps her foot with the buildup.

 

 _“_ _I know nobody knows_

_Where it comes and where it goes_

_I know it's everybody’s sin_

_You got to lose to know how to win.”_

 

The drums slowed again, taunting the crowd instead with the guitar line. A few started cheering as many realize she hadn’t been joking; she really was singing it. Not a foot goes untapped in the bar. She sang again as the crowd hyped her up. Magnus knew a good buildup when he heard one, lowering the lights and bringing them back up at the bridge, until finally she let loose.

 

 _“_ _Sing with me, sing for the years_

_Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears!”_

 

Taako physically gasped, Lup snickering next to him.

 

_“Sing with me, just for today_

_Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away!”_

 

The “away” was drawn out, with just the right amount of note switching to leave the crowd full-on cheering. The beautiful guitar solo kicked up again as she took a small sip of water. Magnus gave her a small nod and he just couldn’t help the huge smile on his face, and that’s just the right boost of confidence she needed. She knew what came next, needing to mentally prepare herself for the last verse. Lightly jumping in place to the beat, she pounded the floor with her foot as Magnus flashed the lights in time before the big finish.

The repeat verse is powerful, lights flashed with each accented note as Magnus watched in awe. Sweat beaded lightly on her brow under the lights, reds and purples highlighting her curls, her body moving to the beat. She knew what she was doing. She'd come to grab this song, take it by the throat, and scream it into the night. Magnus couldn’t have been more proud that his bar was the place she’d chosen in her frenzy. People were standing now, frenzied by the song and drawn by the lights. They sing along, not loud enough to distract. Everyone knew this was her spotlight, she deserved it, she was winning it.

 

_“Dream on,_

_Dream on,_

_Dream on,_

_Dream until your dreams come true!”_

 

She shook her hair in time with the guitar’s notes, Magnus flashing back and forth between silhouetted red and blue before landing back on the mixed purple. 

 

_“Dream on,_

_Dream on,_

_Dream on,_

_Dream until your dreams come true!”_

 

Every patron would have been on the edge of their seat if not for all of them standing in excitement for the finish.

 

_“Dream on,_

_Dream on,_

_Dream on…”_

 

“No fucking way!” Taako yelled above the din of the crowd.

 

_“Dream on!_

_Dream on!_

_Dream on!”_

 

She hit the high note. God, she _pierced_  the high note with utter perfection. Wavering back and forth before fading out, Magnus couldn’t exaggerate in saying that the crowd went  _fucking nuts_. Louder than he can even imagined, he turned up the volume just to make sure the last part can even be heard. Not a single person there wasn’t singing the last lines with her.

 

_“Sing with me, sing for the year,_

_Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear,_

_Sing with me, just for today,_

_Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away!”_

 

The last of the music faded as she dropped her arms, panting heavily with the crowd screaming for her. Magnus brought up the house lights to reveal a packed house. People from the streets had flooded inside to hear the music, cramming the crowd together full of people cheering. As Magnus gaped at the crowd, he turned to see her climbing down from the stage, leaving the microphone and disappearing into the density.

“Shit, wait!” He ripped off his headphones and jumped. The trail of people trying to talk to her was easy to follow. He towered over most of it, finally catching her by the bar. “Please, wait!”

He caught her hand as she made her way to the exit, stopping in front of the bar. His tongue felt tied as people screamed around them, cheering and whooping in the excitement of the the moment, clasping hands. Barry handed her a shot of vodka on the bar in his own excitement. “I… please, at least tell me your name.”

She stopped, looking deeply into him. He felt like she combed his soul. Not breaking eye contact, she let his hand go and grabbed the shot glass and downed it in a second. Reaching for Magnus’s hand again, she slowly brought the shot glass up and pressed a deep purple kiss to it, lipstick as her signature. Placing it in his hand, she smiled that same crazy fun grin as before, and disappeared to the door.

  
The crowd followed her out in his daze, the mass of people getting stuck at the door as Carey and Killian tried desperately not to create a stampede. But she was gone. His ears rang from the speakers and his heart still pounded as his feet stayed glued in place. Hours seemed to pass as he stood there in shocked silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Tess for beta reading! Check out her ko-fi account: http://ko-fi.com/tessmelvin
> 
> The songs in this chapter were, in order, "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band and "Dream On" by Aerosmith
> 
> Dave Matthews Band original version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JU2E1lX1geY (sorry if not everyone knew this song lol)
> 
> Aerosmith original version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hHRNSeuvzlM  
> HC "mystery patron" ("Tongs") song voice for Aerosmith: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNQxzYM-ZWk (she doesn't hit the high note in this version, but there weren't that many version that perfectly combined both the lows i thought she could hit and the high note together...)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Closed for the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing time brings helpful tips from friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooo boy! Okay here's a new chapter! Sorry it took a little while, big rip my friends. 
> 
> No songs in the notes today!

“... agnus? Maaaaagnus…”

“Huh? What?” Magnus snapped to attention. His back hurt and his throat felt dry.

“Dude, it’s 2:30 A.M. I need you to lift your arms though so I can wipe the bar off.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” Magnus peeled himself off the bartop for Barry, skin sticking from too much time in the same spot. He’d been staring at the shot glass for an hour, with apparently about a quarter of that standing in place. It was Kravitz that finally ushered him to sit down, placing his glasses next to him for safekeeping. 

“We closed up, don’t worry. Nobody touched your equipment, though, ‘cuz that’s a nightmare of wires.” Barry chuckled, looking over at the still set-up DJ equipment, playing low music someone must have put on for cleaning. 

“We wanted to get you out of your trance before I vacuumed,” a voice behind him called out. Lucretia was busy trying to plug the industrial-strength instrument into the socket. “It would have been a… pretty nasty wake-up if not.”

“Thanks…” Magnus turned back to the shot glass. He had to hold it carefully; otherwise the marking would smudge. If he stared at it long enough, maybe he could memorize it like a fingerprint. It was the only thing he had left of her.

“So you really didn’t get her name?” Kravitz asked, busy working away with a windex bottle.

Barry added, while smirking, “She said her name was ‘Tongs,’ but was that a nickname or something?” 

When Magnus didn’t answer, he tried again. “Did she really not leave anything? You two seemed to be, uh, kinda close tonight...?” Barry wasn’t sure how sensitive Magnus was right now, but he wouldn’t pass up a solid opportunity to rib his friend a bit. 

Magnus thought long and hard, desperate to remember everything, anything. “Nah, she wouldn’t say... Barry.” Magnus looked him in the eye, and suddenly his expression melted. “She was  _ so fucking cool.”  _ He fell back down on the bartop after Barry finished cleaning it, spinning the glass around playfully like a lovesick ten-ton puppy-man, grinning like a kid. “Did you know she started the water balloon flash mob fight? That was her!”

“No shit, really? I passed by that while it happened.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my video was the one that most news reporters used, actually.” 

“Huh.” He thought for a second. “Hey, could you send it to me later?”

“Sure, you got it. Now get up, I gotta put the stools on the bar for Luce.”

The room shuffled around him, every person having a role and a purpose, like a well oiled machine ready to go home. They all had set motions, set places to go, no mysteries to solve. Yet Magnus stood still again. He felt like he had a hole in his world. It hadn’t been there at the beginning of the night, but it opened in him like a bullet wound, the gap still smoking slightly near his heart. As quickly as the shot came, it was gone, leaving him slightly more empty despite losing nothing. A longing for something familiar he’d never even had. 

But he  _ had  _ had something, though. For a brief moment, he had an idea. A thought. A hope for something, something with this beautiful, funny, smart, wonderful girl that came in asking for help when she knew asking was the best option. Something, anything bad could have happened to her, and she chose  _ his _ bar to trust. If anything, he just wanted to thank her, to see she was still okay, to keep her safe.

The city was impossibly big, and he was just one guy with a bullet hole by his heart. 

“Magnus, we locked up outside and all the lights are off. You guys need any help in here?” Killian called to the room from the door.

“You won’t get much of a response from him, I’m afraid,” Kravitz called out. He’d just finished taking inventory, while Barry was busy with the register. “Could you help me carry out the last of the boxes, though?”

“Sure.” She looped around the bar to grab the box, Carey following her inside. As her girlfriend lugged the boxes out to the backroom, the smaller bouncer took a seat by her best friend at a two top table. “Mags, tonight was crazy.  _ Dream On _ ? For her first time?  _ Ballsy.  _ We couldn’t even keep out the rush of people comin’ in from outside. Honestly, we were probably  _ way  _ over the fire code regulation for the five minutes after the song ended and everyone tried to follow her.”

Magnus felt the dull throb of recognition in the back of his head. He knew he was having a conversation, the systematics felt familiar, yet it was similar to blanking on a test after studying all night. He couldn’t remember what came next—he must have missed a flash card. He just couldn’t stop thinking, using his whole brain to—

“Have you thought of using Help Me Find You?”

That snapped him out of it. “Using what?”

“‘Help Me Find You,’” she repeated. “It’s a site for people that have chance encounters, and think they may have met their soulmate before they got to exchange numbers—”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on,  _ soulmate _ is a little far for a one-time thing—”

“The concept still stands, bro, you’re looking for a person and there’s a chance they’ll read it! Sometimes it works! Most of the time it’s just for people that feel like they have to at least  _ try _ something, instead of letting the person slip from them. Neverwinter is big, dude, lots of faces to search. Plus, you don’t even know if she’s from around here! She might be a high-class chick!”

“You callin’ my bar low grade?” Magnus smirked.

“I’m  _ callin’ _ your bar of a certain group of the ‘expected usuals.’ ” She playfully shoved him. “You know what I mean! Nobody’s snooty in here, everyone’s friendly, a  _ good  _ crowd.” Carey sat back, tugging her bright blue fluffy mohawk hair out its ponytail. There were a lot of ways this conversation could go. “She was nice, Magnus. You should at least try it.”

He stared at the lipstick. It was pressed on the cold glass, not even deeply. The waxy color was thin in places, letting him see straight through the imprint, through the glass, and to his bar. Like a purple crayon smeared into an ice cube.

There was probably something metaphorical or poetic about that, but he kinda lost it at the end. He chose to stop thinking and finally act.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll give it a whirl.”

They closed for the night once every spot was swept, the tables washed, and the wires wrapped. The bar was quiet, with no patrons singing, lights flashing, or floor thumping. Magnus both hated and respected when his bar went quiet, but it was the sound of a new day. As the last of the cleaning was done, he quietly slid to his backroom office.

Across from the bathrooms sat a bland, unlabeled door. Magnus jangled a few keys to enter, and enter alone. His backroom was top-secret stuff, unseen by other eyes. But not for like, sinister reasons, there was just lots of personal information in there, like credit card info, bills, his social security number, bills... there were lots of bills. For a place that usually had the lights off except for the extra DJ lights, they sure racked up a lot of money. The bar made a profit—that much was important. Enough profit for Magnus to handsomely pay his employees, even if it meant he went home with a little less sometimes. Hey, that was business. 

He grabbed his usuals. Backpack, keys, laptop, any of those damn bills he needed, some paperwork, and a few of the other personals nobody wanted to lose while on the job. Clicking the door closed with a handful of objects, he checked the last of the list for cleanups behind the bar, seeing the initials for the night’s duties next to the chore. 

“Barry, got your phone.” Magnus tossed the cell, which Barry caught with one hand (though impressing no one, due to the equally surprised look Bluejeans gave to his own hand). “Krav, these are yours, right?” Holding up the heaviest lanyard ever known to man with keys, keychains, and discount scanners, Magnus laughed.

“... Yeah, they’re  _ still  _ mine, y’make fun of me for it every night… and no, I won’t lighten it, I need everything I carry,” Kravitz called from near the door, jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Well I’m not throwin’ these, they could kill someone.”

Kravitz laughed, striding over to snatch the keys and put them in his satchel. “Lucretia, did you want me to keep the backup outfit in my room or no?”

“No spills tonight, so you might as well if that’s alright with you.” The waitress was checking her own bag, searching to check off her other valuables. Car keys in hand, she called again, “Thanks, though.”

“No sweat. Did Killian and Carey already head out? I was gonna ask if they were on for tomorrow night.”

“They wrote they were good on the schedule,” Barry said, passing by with his own bag. 

“Nice. How about you all, you’re on for Saturday shift, right? Blacklight night in the bar.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Taako always brings desserts on Saturdays. Remember last week’s brownies?” Kravitz said, practically melting with each word. “God, those were so good.”

“One day that boy will work for me, I swear it. Ren is great, but man, sometimes, I  _ daydream  _ of having him in the kitchen.”

Barry snickered when he heard Kravitz whisper a quiet  _ me too,  _ earning the denim-clad bartender a swift elbow to the arm from his coworker, only making Barry wheeze with laughter more. Lucretia rolled her eyes, while Magnus stared one more time at the shot glass left on the bar.

After he finished laughing, Barry watched his boss start to get glassy-eyed again. “Oh for fuck’s—just take it with you, Magnus!”

He glanced at the three by the door, waiting for him. The shot glass belonged in the bar, and he’d never taken anything for his own personal use, but damn if he didn’t desperately want to take it.

Fuck it, people broke and stole his shit all the time, what was one shot glass? He bought it, it was technically his, anyway. He owned the place. Magnus smiled at them, plucking the glass off the shiny bartop and walking with it in his left, keys in his right. 

The door clicked shut for the night, and they went their respective ways. 

~~~~

“God, he seemed so bummed out…”

“I mean, I’m sure he’s fine, but I still worry about the lug, y’know? He’s my best friend… besides you, Kills, of course.”

“Psshh, I know that, Mags is super cool… it’s just not like him to fall so hard and fast.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Carey wrapped her jacket around her shoulders tighter. The brisk spring air was good for the lungs, but not the goosebumps running up her arms. She shivered lightly as the two girlfriends walked down the sidewalk of lower Neverwinter, past the quiet parks under street lamps.

Killian glanced down at her girlfriend, smiling at how she never mentioned about how cold she was, thinking she could tough it out. Silently, the taller of the two wrapped a thick arm around the other, pulling her towards her hip as they walked in pace, smiling.

They’d been dating for years now and knew each others ticks and signs like their own. Killian, in this sense, could tell Carey was at least a little distressed about Magnus, even if she wasn’t showing it fully. “I heard you mention that website, which one was it? Where Are You?”

“Help Me Find You. I’ve never actually seen it work, to be honest.” She laughed, but it sounded empty. “I couldn’t even think of what to say. When  _ we’d  _ met, I’d been able to see you every day. It wasn’t a big mystery where you’d be or anything, you didn’t sweep from the clouds abruptly like some mythical angel.”

“No, but you totally did for me.” Killian leaned down to nuzzle her nose to Carey’s bare neck, cold from the brisk wind without a scarf. Carey leaned into the affection, feeling her face redden as she brought her hands up to cover her face.

“Stooooop, God, you’re so mushy,” she said with giggly affection in every syllable, twisting away from Killian to hide her face jokingly.

“Oh, you can’t hide from me like that, my mythical angel…” With a yelp, Carey felt her girlfriend grab one hand around her waist and the other under her knees and pull her up, hugging her close while holding her bridal style like a toddler snuggling a kitten.

“Killian! Kills—” But she couldn’t even finish chastising her through her own laughter. Feeling the gust tug her hair with the new height, the warmth of the love of her life next to her, and seeing the building where their shared apartment was, Carey was overcome with the happiness in her heart.

She just hoped Magnus got lucky or something. Maybe, maybe the universe would reward him like she was rewarded. He deserved it—God knew he did.

~~~~

“Merle, you’re sure you’re alright? I’d like to remind you, I really like my car interiors clean—”

“I’m not gonna throw up, Dav, ‘m fine.” Merle paused. “Th’nks though. For the ride, too,” he slurred through a smile.

Davenport drove Merle home most nights as of late, cutting himself off early in the night to make sure they didn’t have to waste money on an Uber. Safe piloting was important to him. He looked at Merle, prosthetic arm propping his head up as he seemed close to passing out for the night. Even though Merle had only thrown up once in his car, Davenport still liked to poke fun at him for it. He chuckled to himself lightly, turning back to the road.

“Wus so funny?” Merle asked through tired eyes and sleepy voice.

_ Change the subject, Dav. _ “I was just thinking about the story you told to the paparazzi. It seemed funny, can’t believe I missed the spectacle.”

“Yeah, you always miss ‘em somehow…”

Davenport instantly regretted the topic he brought up. It felt like lying. It technically  _ was  _ lying. He was lying to his friend and he knew it.

“Well, we’re here.” Davenport pulled up to the building, car parked on the outside street below a towering apartment complex sitting like a brick in the map of Neverwinter. “Do you need help getting in?”

“Nah, ‘m just sleepy…” Merle rubbed his eye and yawned. 

Davenport knew when he was staring for just a  _ little  _ too long.

He finally fished his keys out of his pocket, jangling them in his hand after putting his wallet back after accidentally grabbing it. His eyes drooped as he found the right key and vaulted through the mental checklist of his personals. Wallet, keys, cards, cash. There was one other he wish he had, though.

“Dav, you sure you can make it all the way back to your place? It’s late, you can crash if you want…”

Davenport gulped. “N-Nah, I’ve got an early start tomorrow, actually…”

Merle blinked. “... On a Saturday?”

“Y’know, errands, taxes, things…” He really was busy in the morning; now just wasn’t the time to spill that. In truth, he had a meeting to go to involving the opening of this city’s new aerospace museum, while his own plane sat in a private hangar out near the edge of the city. His job was helping plan the opening day, plus any extra placings for exhibits, or extra information for the plaques, giving quotes, supervise... 

Merle gave a quick goodnight and another thanks, and left unceremoniously as usual. Davenport watched to make sure he made it inside, and once the door was pulled closed, he sighed. It got harder and harder every day to hide, no matter how good it felt to feel part of something. He sacrificed the spotlight for normalcy, and as easy as that was to choose, it was hard to keep that wall up.

He’d been starting at the door for far to long. His eyes focused again, and he grounded himself from zoning out. He just had to keep moving.

The car ride from the bar, to Merle’s, then to his own home was long. His car snaked from the lower parts of the city, through blocks of buildings, under city highways, and crawled up the shining hill of class. The city visibly brightened as he traveled, and gradiented from the slight grime of the midway to the pristine shine of the upper hill. The city held a chill of an early fog, brushing the cars as they passed, and climbing though Davenport’s car window he kept open to stay awake. The crisp spring air was refreshing in the dark streets, despite how it was buried by buildings and seeped in civilization. It was nothing like the smell of ozone, the real breeze of tearing through clouds, feeling every hair prick as the temperature dropped and you rocketed to your new destination.

He pulled up to his home before the daydream in his head could take flight. He stared at the parking break as he sat in his driveway, feeling the car rumble under him with the same potential of a loaded gun. He could drive still, make it to the track and skid around for awhile, free from others to burn off this energy…

He glanced at the clock. He knew it was irresponsible. But damn, if the thought didn’t tug at him. He wanted it, he wanted to  _ so bad…  _ but, as he grabbed the stick, it slid into park out of instinct, and he turned the ignition off.

One day, he would let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to Gay Times the fanfic, everyone
> 
> Chat me up on tumblr at https://boomjob.tumblr.com/ , and thank you again to my fantastic beta reader Tess at https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargirls ! (check her out, her cyberpunk au is to die for)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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